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2012-07-07 Tacking into the Wind
Having finally found Tamir, Miguel brought her to the apartment, filling her in on the way. The coin that seems to have started this all, the way Angela feeds off nightmares, the fact that she's trying to at least not truly hurt people. So he's allowed himself to be used, inoften, as something of a "battery" to recharge her. It's not like he doesn't have plenty of fears haunting the back of his head. He made sure Angela wasn't around when they got there, so he could duck in and change clothes. "...think you'll like her," he's saying to Tamir as he fixes himself a glass of water. "Oh, hey--I know you don't /have/ to eat or drink--at least I think I remember that--but did you want something anyway? Not that I'm sure what there is around here..." He hasn't really rummaged around very much, but he's doubtful a place like this would exactly have bare cupboards. This place is fully stocked and fully furnished. Three bedrooms, a balcony with plants, and a small study. This is truly a high end apartment. Not wallet busting, but not cheap. The doorknob rattles as Angela moves to open the door, her hands shaking almost too badly for her to get the door open. When she manages it, she murmuring to herself: "be home be home, be-" She leans in, eyes wide and calls out, "Anyone home?" There's a cold desperation in her voice, as if she's ready to bolt if silence is her reply. ".... Do you have Starkbucks? Mint mocha frappuccino?" She sounds hopeful. Then again... "I like almost everybody." This also happens to be true. She hasn't bothered, though, to hide that she prefers to float, rather than walk... Usually half an inch or less above the ground... Though at this particular moment, she actually floats upside down, just on the ceiling as it were. "I want new socks. And a black umbrella. And a new hat. I should probably get a job. Or ask my foster parents for money... Next time I get a new pair... I'm between sets again. Joe and Maria asked my caseworker to transfer me." She looks up (or rather, thanks to being on the ceiling, down), then points, "A person." That makes Miguel shake his head, though not without a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Her pointing combined with Angela's voice draws his attention to the door. "Back here," he calls out, setting his glass on a counter. "Remember my telling you about Tamir? I found her, finally, and--that's her." A nod upward toward the ceiling. "She's the one who found me when I--fell." He'd already given Angela a rather condensed version, neglecting to say just how high he'd fallen and such things. The rest of it he related. "Tamir, Angela; Angela, Tamir," he says as he heads out of the kitchen, to see if there are things he can help carry or the like. Angela's carrying nothing but her usual over-sized purse. At the sound of voices, and one she recognizes, Angela is quick to close and lock the door behind her, and move in to Miguel's side. As in, right UP to his side, all but pressing herself into his chest, only to restrain herself by about two inches. She looks over toward Tamir, then up, and her lower jaw drops away from the rest of her head. A slight tremor dancing over her form. "She flies," is all Angela is able to squeak out. She doesn't so much float to the ground as she does... drop to it rather acrobatically and then stand, extending her hand to shake,"This is the custom, yes. Hello. I am Tamir. Yes. I found Miguel. He fell from a very great distance." Then Angela observes her flying,"... I do not prefer the term flying. It is inaccurate. A more accurate observation would be that I change my orientation to gravity. It seems to be rather perplexed by existence. Mjolnir is far more reasonable about these things." There she goes being bizarre again. While he may not have known her long, Miguel's already used to that sort of thing from Tamir. Though it helps that he's not exactly unused to people being--different. "Don't mind her, Angela; she's good people," he says to the woman. "And she won't hurt you, just like I won't." He heads back toward the kitchen to retrieve his glass and take another slug of water. It's been a water-drinking day, really. At least it's better than the soup kitchens, where he'd have to stand in line forever just to be able to fill a shallow cup. "Mule.... Umm.." Angela is just stunned at the sight of Tamir, and so turns to look at Miguel as he leaves her side. She starts a bit, giving a little gasp, and so follows behind him quickly, looking over at Tamir over her shoulder. "She won't? I mean.. no, she won't. Right. This is your friend. The one you told me about... so I won't be so alone... right?" God! Angela's as skittish as a bunny. Tamir tilts her head slightly as she watches Angela, then folds her legs lotus position and sits... In the air, so that she may remain eye-level with Angela. "I am sorry that I will not be able to feed you. I am incapable of growing weary, you see, and thusly also incapable of sleep." Indeed, she seems TRULY apologetic. "Nightmares seem a very interesting thing. Tell me, Miguel. Is it alarm to lose consciousness and hallucinate on a daily basis?" She means, of course, sleeping and dreaming. "Are you sure it is not a form of brain damage?" Then she returns her gaze to Angela,"Do you like hats?" "Right, Angela," says Miguel, leaning on the counter. "There will probably still be times when neither of us can be here, but those times will hopefully not be often." He looks to Tamir, saying, "And I wouldn't say 'alarming', Tamir. "Nah, more like welcome. There's nothing better after a long day than collapsing onto a bed and just passing the hell out. Hell, sometimes that's the only thing to keep you going. 'One more hour and I can go to bed', or something." He arches his brows at the thought of how many times he's crawled into bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for days. That thought reminds him of how close he /hasn't/ come to figuring out how to get back, and he grunts softly under his breath, then goes to refill his glass. There's just no way to keep up with Tamir's trains of thought. It's Thomas the Tank Engine on crack. Angela grabs at the conversation threads she can, and so nods. "Yes. I am fond of them, hats that is...." Someone slow the room, I'd like to get off now. Tamir takes the hat off of her head and floats forward towards Angela, holding it out to her,"Here. You may have this. I am told gifts are an accepted part of human interaction when you are a guest in another person's home." She frowns at Miguel,"That makes no sense. I have seen very injured and wounded humans fight loss of consciousness. I am FREQUENTLY told it is bad for them to do so when injured. And yet, now you tell me very healthy humans enjoy losing consciousness. I think... I think you are trying to play a joke on me. I am very intelligent. I should warn you I will not fall for it." Riiiight. Thomas the Tank Engine on LSD, more like... "There's a difference between a restful sleep and losing consciousness from trauma," points out Miguel as he pushes off the counter. "One can help the body and the mind heal, regain energy, and so on. The other can mean one will /die/. It might seem similar on the outside, but the processes and methods and reactions are very different." He glances to Angela, to make sure she isn't going to pass out or the like; he /did/ warn her about how "different" Tamir was, but he does realize how much talk doesn't necessarily stack up to the real thing. "Angela, maybe you'd like to come over and sit down?" he says as he approaches her. "It--might help." Eyeing the hat queerly, Angela just nods to Miguel. She doesn't even seem to be REACTING to Tamir's words. At least, not the way Tamir's words SHOULD be reacted to. How is that supposed to go anyway? She breathing has quickened a touch. Not dangerously so, but enough to hint that Angela's a little unnerved at the moment. She moves to Miguel quickly, wrapping her arm around one of his and almost burying her face into his upper arm. She'll go where he leads. Tamir frowns at the hat, looking genuinely upset, and says to him,"The hat was a poorly chosen gift. I asked her if she liked hats. I did not ask her if she liked THIS hat. I have now offended her." She blows a sigh,"I also cannot tell if you are joking or not. I am not very good at this. Perhaps I was a poor choice. I am better at saving cats from trees. That is easy." Well, then. Miguel leads Angela over to the couch, to help her sit down there. "Hey, the world is a strange place, Angela--Tamir and I are just trying to be the better examples of the strangeness. May as well try to get used to the strangeness, since the world is full of people who aren't going to try and be decent to you." Getting her settled, he slips his hands into his pockets and looks to Tamir, saying, "I think you're a fine choice, Tamir. Some people just aren't--used to people being freak shows, yet." A lift of one eyebrow and a humorous aspect comes to his features. "Besides, if you want to know more about humans, the best thing to do is be around them. And maybe you'll start to understand the difference between sleep and passing out, for starters." Two birds, meet Miggy-stone. Maybe it can help Angela at the same time as getting Tamir more knowledge about people. Only after being settled does Angela seem to gather enough wits to remember her manners. "I'm sorry, Tamir. I'm... I was... out of sorts. The hat is a lovely gift, thank you. You haven't offended me, I just... it takes me a little bit... to calm down sometimes." She bites her lip now and looks at Miguel, the Tamir. Tamir breaks into a wide smile and hands over said hat, clearly just as easily pleased,"You know, the doctors tell me I am supposed to be one. I am almost certain my genetic code and anatomy is baseline human. I am told this is not normal for the display of non-human abilities. Do you watch tv? I have developed a fondness for the cartoon known as 'Hello Kitty'. The bright colors please me." Yep. She really just said that. "I suspect my compatriot is trying to express the value of diversity." "It's okay," Miguel says to Angela. "Just--kind'a go with it. Besides, it'll help for when you're out and about and meet people even weirder than /we/ are." That list is pretty long, as he well realizes. He doesn't remember a /lot/ about this time period, but he remembers enough to know that people running around in their pajamas wasn't exactly uncommon. "And yes, you're right," he says to Tamir, looking at her. "Besides being valuable, diversity is just a fact. There are a /lot/ of weird people around, so the more one learns, the more one gets at least somewhat comfortable with them, the better off they'll be." He knows it isn't quite so easy as that, but it's at least good to try for. Getting her emotions under control a bit, Angela collects the hat as a thought strikes her. Her green eyes lift to Miguel, "Do you mean she scares people?" There's not a drop of fear in that question. Rather, the underlying emotion is the OH GOODIE! of a a child asking if they are indeed going to Disney Land. Tamir quietly watches Angela for a moment. She knows something is odd about the girl's reaction... but she's a little lost as to exactly just WHAT it is that is odd about it. So mostly, she doesn't question it. "Miguel is very smart with people. And yes... I suppose I do." She seems a little sad about this,"When I unmake things with my mind, they get especially uneasy. I suppose it must be disconcerting to see things rupture and crumble into nothingness. The flying also seems to instill little calm. I am not very good at being reassuring. Miggy does it better." "But," Miguel says to Angela with a Not Kidding expression, "remember what we said about self control. You need to, uh, 'feed', you talk to me. Anything else--anything that hurts other people--that's not going to fly, okay? So it doesn't matter if Tamir scares people or even unsettles them." And to Tamir, he says as he looks over to her, "This is part of what I was trying to explain before--something to do with people being afraid. Which is one reason why you're actually a very good candidate." She doesn't seem to fear very much, which can hopefully only work in everyone's favor. Though, hopefully the conversations about him not allowing Angela to harm anyone else are clear in memory. He won't like having to put her down--but he will, if he has to. He thought he'd made that as clear as he could without harping on it too much. Tamir's answer seems to fascinate Angela, for she leans forward with an inhuman sort of grace; her tongue flicks over her lips. It's the mention of Miguel and then the sound of her voice that brings the Brit back to herself. "Yes, I quite well recall what you said. When I need to keep from getting nightmares...." And there's a quantifier she may not have included the first time. "It doesn't mean I can't ASK, you know... and no one gets HURT... if they wouldn't run into traffic.... or jump off buildings.... or try to cut their eyes out..." Not her fault, honest? SOMETHING seems to prompt Tamir to lean forward as the other girl does,"Do you feed off of your own fear.... Feel the greed that burns inside your power? The desire to use, to exercise it... When you look into my eyes, deeply, Angela... what do you see... Because I can feel it there... so much more than I understand... what I am for. Do YOU understand? Miguel has seen darkness. He has chosen me for my relative lack of the very weaknesses that make you human... But when you look, can you see what it is that makes me less or more so? I think you understand unwholesome things better than you care to admit to yourself. Good and evil in all people... But I think the balance in you is a bit closer than for the average person..." Yep. She's talking weirdly again. Miguel goes quiet for the moment as he crosses his arms loosely, letting Tamir work this out with Angela. Truth to tell, he's also somewhat curious as to just what Tamir is leading into. He looks between the pair, the movement only suggested in the near-opacity of the the sunglasses, an eyebrow arching as he studies both women. Angela's head turns back toward Tamir as the other leans forward, only to find herself unnerved by the motion. Unnerved and drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Angela licks her phobic lips as the green of her irises flare subtly. "Feed? Off myself? No... I feed from others," she breathes even as her mind reaches forward to rake her fear inducing claws against Tamir's mind. What is your greatest fear? Your ultimate nightmare? Tell me your fears. Are you scared? A ripple covers Angela's form, obscuring the look of her and shifting her into something much more horrific, much more Phobia. A featureless face and glowing green eyes peer into Tamir's eyes, as the psychic digs for a grip, and spreading the illusion of a room and a world beyond, utterly annihilated by a wave of Tamir's unholy ability. Is it her greatest fear? Or does it merely evoke sorrow? Whatever the case, she is... too logical. She sees the illusion in full. Tamir's eyes scan the landscape, quietly, saddened. She speaks out loud, as if she knows Miguel can hear her,"She will turn on you Miguel. She will not wish to. But eventually she will. Tell her to banish her phantoms, before I am forced to unmake her. I am not capable of this level of destruction yet, and I disdain killing... But I will hurt her if she does not cease this illusion she shows me. And Angela? You would do well to understand that I have more senses than you comprehend. Your ability is impressive. Now cease using it." She extends her hand in the direction she remembers seeing Angela, visualizing her mentally, and begins muttering words in a language it is unlikely anyone has ever heard. The very sound of them in the air is uncomfortable, twisted, dark. The air around her hand begins to ripple in response. No fear? No sustenance! Phobia sneers at the lack of it, only to feel the power whell up with Tamir. So, Phobia does what any self-loving survivalist villain would do: She turns her power on Miguel. It's not an attack meant to cripple. No, it's an attack meant to make the boy react. The illusion she crafts quickly, leaving off trying to project into Tamir's mind, is this: Tamir's power rippling the air about her, Angela sinking back into the sofa frightened (Alright, so the only part of the visual illusion is that it's Angela and not Phobia! Oh, and let's not forget to mention that Angela is wearing Dana's clothes.) The audio of the illusion is a shift in Tamir's words: "She will turn on you Miguel. She will not wish to. But eventually she will. You have to say goodbye, Miguel. Tell her farewell, and I will unmake her, for I am capable of this level of destruction, and I do not disdain killing... I will hurt her if she ceases this illusion she shows me. And Angela? You would do well to understand that I have more power than you comprehend. Your ability is impressive, but he will still fail you." At least she stopped mind-wonking Tamir, right? Miguel grabs his head with one hand, the other reaching out for the arm of the sofa. Gritting his teeth, he tries to shut out the images--though that never really works. Not completely. He has to try and focus on the fact that this isn't real, that he's really standing in the living room of the apartment, that everything did not suddenly go to hell in a hand basket. It's a losing battle, unfortunately, but it's one he struggles to fight to the very last. Tamir shakes her head, simply, and releases her power at the woman. The air will ripple between her and Angela... But the chanting? Not to amp the blow up... But rather to fine tune it. Why? To try to cause unconsciousness (albeit painfully), rather than detonate the poor girl. The last words before it crosses the distance? "I am sorry. I know it is not your fault that you are this way." It didn't work? Why didn't it work? Doesn't that fear cause him anger? Make him move? What the hell- Those are pretty much the last thoughts Phobia has right before she screams in abject pain and slumps over, unconsciousness. The horror form of Phobia flickers away on an nonexistent breeze. "Fuck..." Miguel mutters as he massages his forehead, vessels throbbing visibly from the strain. He's half-surprised he doesn't have a nosebleed. The scientist in him wants to know the answers to the same questions--why it didn't drive him to the ground like it has before. Why he was able to withstand it--to some extent. If she could have kept it up, he knows he couldn't have--but why was he able to in the first place? Too many questions, not enough answers. He wipes his hands on his jeans--and that's when he barely feels the coin in his pocket. A proverbial light bulb clicks on over his head, and he hurriedly digs it out. Archangel Raphael, protector against Nightmares on one face and Saint Dymphna, patron Saint of sleepwalkers on the other. "Hey, have you ever seen this before?" he asks Tamir, going to hand the coin to her. Frankly, he'll deal with Angela in a moment or two--when he's not /supremely pissed off/ at her. "The first time she tried that shit on me, I had this in my pocket. The second time, when it really worked, I didn't. Now, when she wasn't able to get me as--wrapped up in her whatever-it-is again, and I had this on me again. It's the only constant." Tamir accepts the coin at this point, flipping it over and over in her hands,"I feel kinship in it... I sense that it has energy of some sort... Though of what nature, I do not know. You say these people are protectors... Perhaps their energy permeates this item and protects you?" She offers the coin back to Miguel,"I would say it is tailor-made to deal with people like her. Be careful. She has a hunger inside her that will only be met by horror and sorrow." Angela remains unconscious of the sofa, body drooped in what must be an uncomfortable position. With a soft sigh, Miguel combs his fingers through his hair and grits his teeth again, glancing over to Angela. Seeing her in an uncomfortable position--there's the angry part of him that would want him to leave her there. Maybe waking up with a sore neck and spine, and an arm full of the tingles from laying on it wrong would do her a favor. On the other hand, he knows what it's like to try and fight one's own nature. The Angela he's come to know isn't a bad person--even if she has some bad parts /of/ her. Since he's not always an ass, he actually goes to stretch Angela out into a more comfortable position, complete with putting one of the sofa pillow-things under her head. Maybe she'll remember this when she decides to lose her shit again--though, in all honesty, he isn't counting on it. "Look," he says to Tamir as he goes to sit on the arm of a chair, "I--know what it's like to have something that you hate inside you. I know what it's like to want to be a better person even when you know you can't be. I just--she deserves a chance, Tamir. Just like everyone else who wants to be a better person does." He rubs his face as his brows knit together, not liking what he knows he might have to do at some point. Tamir frowns at Miguel, heaving a long-suffering sigh,"She was given a chance. More than one, if your words are any indication. And she has squandered them time and time again. I gave her a second chance, just now, by choosing not to remove her for the good of mankind and especially you. I do not claim to be wise enough to make that judgement. But she will turn on you Miguel. It is in her nature. And always will that nature seek to feed on you. You can no more blame her for it than you can a starving dog who attacks his cruel master because he seeks only food. It is not to be hated for it... but neither is it to be trusted. And sometimes, it must be put down. You would do well to remember that my friend." Angela is dead weight as Miguel moves her. Just a sack o' bones. "Yeah," mutters Miguel, slipping off his sunglasses so he can rub the inner corners of his eyes. "Knew a few people like that, too." He puts the sunglasses back on as he thinks of Flipside and Kron. One was designed to be--something he could never figure out, but all he wanted was friendship, if in a /very/ twisted way, and the other had only known hate and anger his entire life. Both had to be put down, in the end. "That's why I hope you'll stick around," he says, offering a small and thoroughly insincere smile to Tamir. "We both have to be on-the-ball, and if I'm not around should she really prove herself to be--irredeemable, I'd like to make sure no one else gets hurt." As much as he hopes it doesn't come down to that, he's glad that it seems that, like himself, Tamir will do what needs to be done. In a fit of pique, Tamir frowns,"I find myself very irritated and upset by her attack on me. I must have revenge." And with that, she pulls free a marker and decides to doodle naughty pictures on the unconscious woman's face. Revenge as only a teenager could conceive it,"Guarding her. Resources we could better spend trying to save others who need it more. Better she be in a facility with people designed to care for such as her. She will turn, one day. Mark my words." Marker. Tickles. Angela murmurs faintly as the felt tip tickles her skin, but otherwise.... Mission: Decorate the Unconscious Super Villain is a success. "Really? /Is/ there such a place?" asks Miguel, arching a brow. He'd decided to not say anything against the face-marking. Honestly, that's about the least-offensive form of revenge he can think of, so he'd just as soon let it go. "I mean, if there's a place where someone can get into your head and make you their bitch against your will, and you won't be able to just walk on out of there--I'd love to know about it. But with the number of people in stupid outfits--like myself--around, I find that rather hard to believe. If you don't want to help, that's fine--I-I get it. But I'm not going to lock her away someplace that will keep her sedated all the time. I won't--do that to someone, unless they really deserve it, and so far, she hasn't earned that." Tamir frowns,"You truly don't understand. I will not leave you to deal with this alone, but... she probably does deserve it. How many innocent people did she meet and hurt before you came along. You do not try to rescue 'every' evil doer you've seen. Why this one? Why now? She has already earned her place in a superhuman detention facility. Heheh. I wrote wang on her forehead." Small attention span. Finally. The tickles are gone. Now a girl can remain unconscious! "She's the only one I've seen here who's wanted to /be/ rescued," Miguel says, glancing down at Angela, then exhaling softly and standing up once more. As he goes to the kitchen, he says, "Most--'evil-doers', as you called them, they don't care who they hurt. They /like/ hurting people. But sometimes people hurt others because they don't have a choice, or--or they don't know how to control themselves. That's the difference--someone with great power who /wants/ to use it responsibly." He leans on the counter, having either forgotten or stopped caring about getting another drink. "That's the line. We all have this power--some of us climb walls, some of us tell reality to go fuck itself, but at the end of the day we all have the power to hurt people. We choose not to--but that doesn't mean we're incapable. That doesn't mean we /can't/. Someone who /wants/ that chance--I can't turn them away, just for what they are. Or my entire life would be meaningless--a lie." Tamir lifts off the ground now, and sighs. After a moment, she pulls free her marker, leans over the woman, and writes another word on her chin: Boobies. Done, she tosses the marker on the ground and turns towards the window,"Perhaps, but... she DOES like using her power to hurt people. That's where it falls apart. I will help you Miguel. But it will end in tears. I can only hope it will be worth it. For now... I have business elsewhere. I will see you soon Miguel." Angela has boobies on her face. Anyone got a camera? "It's the desire that makes the difference," Miguel murmurs as he leaves the kitchen again. "The desire to repent. I can't turn away at that--but I'm glad for your help." He quickly corrects himself with, "For your /continued/ help, I guess. We'll--just have to muddle through, I guess. But--thanks for your understanding, too. It does mean a lot." He goes to offer his hand to Tamir for a firm handshake. It's weird for him, as he's used to dodging handshakes so people don't find out about the talons, but--besides Tamir already knowing, it's not like she doesn't deserve at least that much. Tamir takes Miguel's hand for a moment, then turns again to lift into the air,"I hope for your sake, I am wrong." She lifts out the window a moment later and mutters for herself,"Because guarding you from her will be difficult." Category:Logs Category:RPLogs